


The Naughty List

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Secret Santa Fic. The night before Christmas, Ian Gold is spending the holidays with his son and his ex-wife's stepsister Belle and realizes his feelings for her are much stronger than originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naughty List

**Author's Note:**

  * For [munkinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/munkinette/gifts).



> My second rumbelle secret santa fic is for munkinette. Her prompt was: hands, tickle, warmth, frosted windows
> 
> This fic is very, super fluffy with a little bit of smut. I hope you like it, munki!

In the Gold residence, the halls were decked with holly, ribbon, twinkly lights, and everything else that screamed “Merry Christmas!” in as loud a color as possible. The madness didn’t stop with the halls, but spilled out into the front yard with a wreath on the door, lights circling around the trees, and a particularly ridiculous looking light-up snowman designed to look like it was waving at the passerby. The crowning jewel of it all was the tree trussed up in the middle of the living room, circled with ribbons, multi-colored lights, so much tinsel it was hard to find any greenery, and topped with a blinking star.

            Gold wasn’t entirely sure how he got talked into decorating so much for Christmas, but he supposed it was Belle’s blue-eyed smile that could not be refused. Added to that was Bae’s own “can we do it, please, please, please,” look and it had him carefully hanging stockings over the fireplace.

            Now it was Christmas Eve and they could properly enjoy their hard work, though Gold would never admit to being pleased by it all, he did have a reputation to maintain in this town.

            Bae was as cheerful as Tiny Tim on Christmas, a much better portrait than last year. He was eager to watch any and all Christmas movies on TV and had enjoyed making a batch of cookies for Santa, especially when he got to lick the bowl clean. This was how every seven year old boy should be on Christmas, not the dour, quiet child he was last year.

            It was Belle he had to thank for all of this. She was sitting there in the living room, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire, singing along to the Christmas songs she had playing in the background while Bae was writing his letter to Santa. When Milah had up and left them last year, a week before Christmas, Gold had assumed this year would be as jolly and merry as last year’s dismal affair. Worse, that his son would forever associate Christmas with his mother abandoning him. He couldn’t have predicted Belle coming along to save them both from such a lonely year.

            “Should I remind Santa what I want for Christmas?” Bae asked.

            “I don’t think so,” Belle told him, “Be sure to thank him for all of the presents and promise to be a good boy next year.”

            “Okay, Aunt Belle,” he said before cheerfully returning to his letter, scribbling on the page with red crayon. “Aunt Belle, did you and Papa remember to give your letters to Santa? I don’t want you to be forgotten.”

            “Oh don’t worry, sweetie, he won’t forget us.” Belle gave Gold a little wink before going to the mantle to adjust Buddy, the Elf on the Shelf she had insisted they buy. “Be sure to say good bye to Buddy before you go to bed, you know he’ll be back at the North Pole in the morning.”

            “Do you think he’ll miss me?” Bae asked. His tiny voice held a slight tremor of fear that cut straight to his father. God, he was thinking of his mother. He knew he should have sent Bae a card pretending it was from Milah, something to cheer the boy up so he could forget that his mother had left them because she was tired of playing mommy and especially hated playing wife to a cripple.

            “Oh, honey, of course he will,” Belle said and the reached down to scoop Bae into a hug, “I bet he’ll keep count of the day until December when he can come back and play with you again.”

            “I liked it when he turned the milk green, didn’t you Papa?”

            “Oh yes,” Gold told his son, “It was especially appetizing having green milk in my cereal.”

            Belle couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I liked it when he toilet papered the tree.”

            “As long as it wasn’t my office,” Gold replied, remembering her threat when’s he broke out the toilet paper two weeks ago.

            She giggled again before spying the clock. “Well, I think it’s about bedtime for one little boy here, now who could that be?”

            Bae shook his head. “I’m not sleepy.”

            “If you don’t go to sleepy, then Santa won’t come and give you your presents.”

            “I’m still not sleepy.”

            “Then I suppose I have no choice,” Belle said, a sly smile on her pretty face, “I’ll have to tickle you to sleep.”

            “No! No! No!” Bae shrieked with delight as she descended upon him and mercilessly began to tickle his sides and tummy. “Papa, help!” he shouted.

            “Every man for himself, son,” he replied.

            Bae continued to laugh and squirm while Belle continued to tickle him until they were both gasping for breath. “Now, let’s go upstairs and I’ll tuck you in,” Belle said.

            “Will you read me a story?”

            “Of course.” Belle looked back at Gold, mischief twinkling in her eye, “If Santa comes, be sure to tell him Bae is asleep.”

            “I will deliver the message,” he said. He smiled as Belle chased Bae up the stairs to brush his teeth and tuck him into bed.

            With his son occupied, he retreated to the basement and began to gather the presents he and Belle had stashed away under there. Thankfully, Belle had already wrapped everything so it was only a matter of putting it all under the tree. Of course most of the gifts were for Bae, but he’d managed to sneak in a few for Belle that she didn’t know about.

            He could never thank her enough for what she’d done for them. Once word got around that Milah had abandoned them, Belle had hoped on the next plane from Boston to help them out. She didn’t have to do any of that, she was only Milah’s stepsister and they weren’t very close to begin with. She was a few years younger than his ex-wife, still a gangly teenager when they’d been married. Now she was a woman full grown, finished with grad school and employed as the town’s librarian. He doubted such a job was what she’d intended for herself, but she’d never complained.

            Gold had thought he would tire of her after a few weeks, once he got the rhythm of being a single father he would gently find a way to tell her to leave. That never happened. He found his rhythm, sure, but the idea of sending her away formed a pit in his stomach. Seeing Belle here, having her have tickle fights with Bae, cutting the crusts off of his peanut butter sandwiches, and helping him decorate the gingerbread cookies…she was the kind of mother his son had always needed.

            It was more than what she did for Bae, but what she did for him as well. At the beginning, his marriage to Milah had been happy, but now he knew it was all a façade. They had gone through the motions, thought that it would be enough, but once he’d had his accident they had both transformed. Milah had been stuck with a crippled husband that she had to take care of and try to nurse back to health, not her specialty. Meanwhile, he’d resented the fact that he was not dependent upon a cane and was restricted in things he could never do again because of it. They had thought having children would save their crumbling marriage, but their foundation had been weak to begin with, he saw that now.

            He couldn’t blame Milah for leaving him. What love they had, if it had ever been real, had long since shriveled up and blown away like leaves in the Fall. He could never forgive her for leaving their son. That was another matter entirely.

            Belle came bouncing down the stairs, still grinning. He had never seen her without a smile on her face. “Oh, you started without me,” she said.

            “I thought I’d get a head start. There is still a few more things in the basement.”

            “Okay, I’ll get them, you rest your knee.”

            “It’s—.”

            “I know what those stairs do to you and by the looks of things you must have taken at least three trips in rapid succession.”

            It was four actually, but she didn’t need to know that. There would be no talking her out of this. Perhaps Belle and Milah weren’t related by blood, but they were both stubborn. While Milah was stubborn to a fault, Belle was stubborn when it came to those she cared about. How he had wound up on that list he had no idea.

            Belle carted up the last of the presents while he set to work on a little nightcap for them both. The basement door was open in the kitchen so he could observe as Belle trudged up the stairs with the final present for Bae: a new bicycle.

            “Damn this is heavy,” Belle said.

            “Do you need any help?”

            “No, I’ve got it. What are you making?”

            “It’s a surprise.”

            “Well look who’s finally gotten into the Christmas spirit,” she said.

            “Dragged into it more like,” he replied.

            Belle only laughed before she carted the bike into the living room to set it up by the tree. “Where are the decorations I bought?” she called back to him.

            “In the coat closet.”

            “Thanks.”

            Gold listened to her humming the words to “Santa Baby” as she busied herself with her task like the Christmas elf she seemed to embody. It was never like this with Milah or any woman he’d ever been with. Never this easy, this cheerful, so…happy. By God, he really was happy. He had a son who he adored and he had Belle who he…

            He nearly scalded himself with boiling water. He couldn’t be…could he? That was ridiculous. Belle was family. Perhaps not by blood, but surely he couldn’t…

            “Ian?” Belle called out to him, “Everything okay?”

            “Yes, fine,” he replied, quickly returning his preparations though his hands shook a little. How could this have happened? Well, that was actually easy to answer. Belle was so wonderful, so bright and cheerful, not to mention exceedingly beautiful. But more than that, she was the kind of mother Bae had always deserved. It had been so easy for her to slip into their lives, being a mother to his son. She even extended her loving hand to Gold on occasion, stopping by for lunch every day at his shop and cooking him his favorite foods for his birthday two months ago. Really, there had been not hope for him. Of course he’d fallen in love with her, it would have been impossible not to.

            Somehow, privately admitting it and understanding why he hadn’t stood a chance soothed him. He loved Belle. Even if it was impossible that she could ever love him, at least he knew how it really felt to love someone besides his wonderful boy.

            He poured the steaming brew into two mugs and carried them into the living room, ignoring the pain in his leg from walking without the use of his cane. He left the kitchen and walked into Santa’s Workshop.

            Apparently Belle wasn’t done decorating yet. She was carefully taping red and green streamers all around the room, winding them around the banister and letting them curl above the archway from the staircase. “Santa has been busy,” he said.

            Belle giggled while she finished unrolling a streamer. “I thought it would add a nice touch. Plus I figured that since you didn’t kill me when I frosted the windows, you would let me get away with this.”

            “I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.” Nor did he want to. Oh he may have put up a fuss when she decorated the yard and sprayed the windows with this paint like product designed to make it look like the windows were frosted with snow. After she’d assured him that it would wash off easily enough, he had relented and silently admired her handiwork.

            Belle finished the last streamer and smiled at her handiwork. “You think Bae will like it?”

            “I know he’ll love it,” Gold told her. He slipped one of the warm mugs into her hands. “Here, you’ve earned this.”

            Belle took a tiny sip. “Mm, that’s good. What is it?”

            “Hot buttered rum.”

            A wide grin broke across her face and she swatted at his chest with her free hand. “You did this all by yourself? Guess Cindy Lou Who finally talked some sense into you.”

            Gold shook his head. “No, just you.”

            Belle’s cheeks pinked and she looked down into her mug. That was just another thing he loved about her, how modest she was.

            They took a seat on the couch, sipping at their hot buttered rum in front of the fire. This was nice. The warmth of the hot liquor, the fire, and Belle’s smile was enough to keep him cozy until Spring. “You know, I saw a few gifts under that tree with my name on them,” Belle said.

            “Oh?” he replied innocently.

            “Yes, what are they doing there?”

            “I guess you were a good girl this year.”

            “Ian, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

            “Technically a gift is something one has to give but what one chooses to give,” he said.

            “But Ian, you didn’t—.”

            “I want to, Belle,” he cut her off to say, “You have done so much for us these past months. I was a wreck, Bae was distraught, and you came along and pulled us back together. You didn’t have to burden yourself with an old cripple and a young boy. You undoubtedly had plans, dreams, but your put them on hold to help us through this and I can never repay you for that.”

            Tears winked in Belle’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “Oh Ian, you and Bae have never been a burden to me. I’ve enjoyed being here, I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else.”

            He looked down into his rum. “That’s kind of you, Belle, but I know you had other plans.”

            “Maybe I did,” she said, “But when I heard what Milah had done, I didn’t hesitate to come here. You and Bae are family, that is the most important thing in the world.”

            “But you didn’t have to stay for so long,” he reminded her, “You could go back to Boston.”

            “I don’t want to,” she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “This is home now.”

            His heart was hammering inside of his chest. The touch of her hand was sending sparks of fire through his blood, clouding his brain in a way no drug or alcohol could do. “Belle,” he said her name softly.

            “Yes?” She looked at him with such large, impossibly blue eyes. She was waiting for something and she was so close, so very close. If he just leaned a little more towards her then he could taste the rum off of her lips.

            Should he do it? Should he kiss her? Should he tell her how he felt? God, could he actually say the words? Did he dare? He had never felt like this before. With Milah or any other woman he had been so confident, so sure. Maybe because Belle was different, because what he felt was different. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she left because of that?

            No, he couldn’t do it. It was best just to hold his tongue.

            “Would you like some more?” he asked her, “The rum I mean?”

            “No, that’s okay,” she said. There was something to her voice now, almost sad. Was she…disappointed?

            “It’s late I guess,” Belle said, “I should probably go to bed. Merry Christmas.”

            He almost let her get up, almost let her walk up to their room. He could. If he did then she would go to bed, they would get up in the morning and enjoy Christmas with Bae. Nothing would change, they would still be living in this house, still see each other for lunch, still go about their lives. But wasn’t that the point of this time of year? To be bold? To hope for something more than what one usually had?

            Gold didn’t know where he found the courage, but he took her hand and kept her from leaving. “Ian?” she asked, “What are you…?” He didn’t let her finish. He had to do this before he lost his nerve completely.

            He stared into her eyes for one impossibly long moment, then did the brave thing. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

            For a moment she didn’t do anything. Had he misjudged the moment? Was it all ruined now? Her mug hit the carpet with a thud as it slipped from her fingers. Then her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders so her arms could wind around his neck.

            They only broke apart for air, but they didn’t move too far away. Belle’s lips were swollen and red, but she smiled up at him. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for years,” she said breathlessly.

            “Years?”

            Belle nodded. “I…I had such a crush on you when I was younger. It broke my heart when you married Milah. I thought that I had moved on, but these past few months…oh Ian, I think I’ve always been in love with you.”

            It felt like his heart was on fire inside of his chest, filling his whole body with warmth and tingling sensations. He smiled at her and cupped her face with his hands. “I wish I could have known how you felt, maybe it wouldn’t have taken me this long to see it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Belle.”

            Tears shined in her blue eyes but her smile was as bright as ever. He kissed her again, never wanted to stop kissing her. This was love, real, honest, true love.

            Her hands gripped his hair as he explored her mouth. His hands fell away from her face, sliding down the curves of her body to her waist. They kissed and kissed all while their hands explored one another, the only light in the room was the glow of the fireplace and the lights on the Christmas tree.

            Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. His hands lifted up the hem of her blouse. Skin was bared and their hands had to touch, caress, and tease every inch of it. She pushed him gently until he lay on the couch, her straddling his waist. She kissed and touched his bare chest, all while his hands cupped her breasts and teased her nipples.

            The unbuttoned and unzipped the rest of their clothing before pealing it off and tossing it aside. They let their hands take over, say what they were feeling and what they wanted to do, because they were too busy kissing to say the words themselves.

            Finally, Belle lowered herself over him, his cock filling her slowly. She was so wet and tight he thought he would die from the pleasure. He let her set the rhythm, content to let his hands wander her sweet form, finding those spots that made her moan and sigh. Their hands eventually found each other, tangling their fingers together as they found their mutual bliss.

            He held her afterwards, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and the sweet smell of her hair. This was happiness, this was peace.

            It was the cold that finally roused him. Even though he was wrapped up in his beautiful Belle, they were both still naked and the fire had long since died. The moon was gone, now the early rays of the sun filtered through the frosted windows. He didn’t want to wake up, just wanted to stay there forever with Belle tangled up with him.

            She hummed into his chest as she woke. Her blue eyes met his and she smiled at him. “Merry Christmas, Ian,” she said sleepily.

            “Merry Christmas, Belle.” It was the best Christmas he ever had.

            He meant to kiss her, but the sound of a door slamming shut made them both freeze. Small footsteps pattered upstairs, heading towards the staircase. They looked at each other with identical wide-eyed looks of horror.

            They scrambled for their clothes. He found his pants, but only had one leg in when Bae came racing down the stairs. “Did he come? Did Santa come?” he called out excitedly.

            Bae stopped at the foot of the stairs, his brown eyes taking in everything: the mountain of presents stacked under the tree, the streamers decorating the ceiling and walls, and his half naked father and equally half naked aunt.

            “Papa? Why aren’t you and Aunt Belle wearing clothes?”

            “Uh…” Oh God, how could one explain this to a six year old without scaring him for life? “You see, Bae, we, uh…”

            “It was Buddy,” Belle broke in to say, “We stayed up too late and Santa came, so Buddy put us to sleep. He took out clothes as one last prank to teach us a lesson.”

            “That wasn’t very nice,” Bae said.

            “He’s a mischievous elf,” Gold agreed. One look at Belle showed her biting her lip as she blushed scarlet. “You go back upstairs and brush your teeth and then we’ll open the presents.”

            “Okay.” Bae quickly ran back up the stairs, no doubt going to give his teeth the fastest, most ineffective scrub they would ever receive.

            Belle fell back onto the couch the moment Bae was gone, burying her face into her hands but the laughter peeled through her fingers. “I think we’ve made the naughty list for next year,” she said.

            “Most likely,” Gold said. They had only minutes, he knew, but he couldn’t help but get one last kiss in before the rest of Christmas began.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this was appropriate for the upcoming holidays. Please read and review!


End file.
